


Look, Don't Touch

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [27]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 03:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Born of several requests for Hank's reaction to Stella's uniform





	Look, Don't Touch

A noise woke Hank, but he wouldn’t be able to say what it was, only that he was asleep one moment, and then startled awake in the next.  He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and then turned over to wrap himself around Stella, but he ended up rolling into empty space.  Frowning, he squinted open his eyes again and noticed that there was light shining around the bathroom door and that it wasn’t fully closed.

 

The clock read 5:47.  Too early for Stella to be up for work.  He wondered if something was wrong.  As he lay there and considered whether or not to get up and check on her, the bathroom door slowly pushed open and that’s when he saw it.  He quickly pushed himself up onto his hip, blinking rapidly as the light assaulted his eyes, but he wasn’t going to close them now.

 

“Stella,” he whined, his sleepy voice coming out like a gravelly groan.

 

Stella appeared in the bathroom doorway.  Her robe was loose and there were bobby pins in her mouth.  She held her hair up in a twist, pulled a pin from her mouth, inserted it in her hair, grabbed another pin and looked from Hank to the back of the bathroom door.

 

“Go back to bed,” Stella said, her teeth clenched around the pins.

 

“No way,” Hank answered.  “You know how I feel about it.”

 

Stella took the pins out of her mouth and disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments.  He stared at the back of the bathroom door until she came back and blocked his view.

 

“I’ll get ready in the spare room,” she said.  “It was my intention to be gone before you woke.”

 

Hank shook his head.  “I want to watch you,” he said.  Already, he had the beginnings of an erection just thinking about it.

 

“I need to be out the door by 6:30 at the latest.  We have a formal departmental meeting this morning.”

 

“We had an agreement.”

 

“Which is why I’ll go to the spare room.”

 

“Too late, Sherlock.  Now, I want to watch.”

 

Stella put her hands on her hips.  “You are incorrigible, do you know that?”

 

“You should’ve been quieter.”

 

“Fine.  But, you mustn’t distract me.”

 

Hank crossed a finger over his chest and then sat up fully and plumped the pillows behind him to lean against the headboard.  He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp so he would have more light.  Stella disappeared into the bathroom once again and the next time she came out, her robe was gone and she was simply in the tank top and flannel pants she wore to bed.  Her hair and make-up were already done.

 

Stella purposefully ignored Hank as she crossed the room.  She pulled her tank top off and then the pants, leaving her nude.  Hank always appreciated her naked body, but that’s not what he was interested in this morning.  He watched her slip into a white, lacy pair of panties and hook on a matching bra with growing impatience.  Normally, he would be quite upset by the sight of her breasts disappearing from view, but not today.  She took her time getting into her pantyhose and by the time she was finished, he was pretty sure the anticipation was going to kill him.

 

Finally, Stella crossed the room towards the bathroom and he glanced at the back of the door again, salivating over what was about to happen.  It had been so long since he’d seen her like this, but that was his fault.  He’d told her it was too much for his heart, and his dick, to handle, and she’d either have to never let him see it again, or accept the consequences.  As she unzipped the garment bag that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, he grew immediately, painfully hard.

 

Hank remembered the first time he’d seen her in uniform.  It was before they were living together; one of the times he was only visiting for a week.  He didn’t remember the event she needed to attend, only that he was downstairs in the kitchen and when she walked in, his heart had stopped.  All the blood in his body had rushed to his dick and he couldn’t move or speak.  After she left, he masturbated himself into exhaustion because it was damn near Pavlovian how hard he got every time the thought of her in that outfit crossed his mind.

 

That night, when she got home, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.  The uniform though, was off limits.  He could look, but he couldn’t touch, which was just another way to drive him absolutely out of his mind.  She found it unbelievable that her professional, formal uniform could turn him on so strongly and he insisted she had rented some sort of sexy pilot or sexy marine admiral costume from a shop just to fuck with his mind and his cock.  If that were a real uniform, half of London would be turning themselves in to the police.  The uniform was obscene, he insisted; a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.  She thought he was crazy.

 

Now, here it was again, hanging on the back of the bathroom door like a siren.  Maybe the noise that had woken him was actually the uniform itself, calling to him, begging for him to see it.  He was always a slut for a woman removing her clothes, but here he was, as hard as he’d ever been, just waiting for a woman to put her clothes  _ on _ .

 

She started with the skirt, the long, tight, black skirt that fell a hairsbreadth from the top of her knees and hugged every curve on the way; her hips, her ass, her thighs, even her knees grew shapely and defined in that skirt.  He couldn’t help himself and he had to reach down to adjust himself inside of his jockey shorts.  He would wait until she left to jerk off in the bathroom, but he just had to relieve a little of the pressure.

 

Stella’s skirt zipped up on the side, and she left it open while she slid into her crisp, white dress shirt, snug across her breasts and tight at the waist.  The official black stripes with seal across her shoulders made it even sexier.  She buttoned the top and tucked it into her skirt and then zipped herself up.  He fisted his hands by his thighs and squirmed uncomfortably.

 

Next, she flipped the collar of her shirt up and draped a black tie around her neck.  Hit bit his lip and put one hand back on his crotch.  She turned her back to him to watch herself in the mirror as she expertly knotted the tie, and he touched himself and stared at her reflection.  He was pretty sure it was scientifically impossible to throb harder than he was, but she put her hands on her hips for a moment and he thought he might die.

 

“Fuck,” Hank groaned.  Stella caught his eye in the mirror as she adjusted her tie and he bit his lip.  She raised her eyebrow at him and he grimaced as he tugged at his shorts. 

 

Stella turned when she was finished tucking and smoothing the tie into the front of her skirt, took a mere glance at Hank as he tried desperately not to yank at his cock, and walked back to the bathroom door to remove her jacket from the hanger.  God, the jacket.  He groaned as she shrugged the tight blazer on and squeezed his balls in agony.  Brass buttons.  Those brass fucking buttons down the front and on the shoulder straps.  The pin of decoration above her right breast.  How dare she.

 

Hank moaned.  Stella held his gaze as she buttoned the jacket and then her eyes dropped to the ongoing war between his hand and his dick.  She turned away, only to swipe her hat from the chair next to the door and push it down onto her head.

 

“Oh my fucking god,” Hank muttered, banging his head back against the headboard once and gritting his teeth.  He’d nearly forgotten about the hat.

 

“Can I trust you?” Stella asked, moving closer to the bed.

 

Hank’s response came out in a garbled groan with a question mark in the inflection.  Stella touched his ankle and then wrapped a hand around his calf and moved the bedclothes out of the way.

 

“Slide this way,” she said.  “Bend your knees over the bed.  Look, don’t touch.”

 

Hank grappled for purchase on the bed with the back of his heels and scooted himself towards the edge of the bed until his legs were draped over the side and he lay across the middle.  Stella put her hands on the inside of his thighs and he nearly levitated off the bed.

 

“Take your shorts off,” she said, stepping back a few paces as he lifted his hips and yanked his underwear down.

 

“Not a wrinkle,” Stella said.  “Not a hair out of place.  Not a drop of you on me, understand?  Look, don’t touch.”

 

Hank nodded and Stella put her hands back on the inside of his thighs, pushing his legs slightly apart to step between his knees.  She licked her lips as she leaned over him and the brim of her hat touched his abdomen, sliding softly up to his chest as she ran her tongue over him from root to tip.

 

“Jesus, fuck,” he muttered.  He spread his arms wide and grabbed the sheets to stop himself from touching her.

 

Stella wrapped one hand around him and he told himself not to look down as she took him inside her mouth.  If he looked down, it would be over.  He he looked down and caught sight of that black and white checkered stripe on her hat or the brass buttons on her shoulders or caught a glimpse of the whiteness of her color in contrast with the blackness of her tie, he would fucking explode.

 

Hank stared at the ceiling and whispered Stella’s name, over and over.  He tried not to think about how she would leave for work shortly, how she would be in that uniform in a room full of men and women with the taste of him in her mouth.  He tried not to think about whether or not her panties were already ruined with arousal because he knew going down on him was a turn on for her.  He tried not to feel smug about the smell of sex that would stay with her all day and how everyone would know she was a bad, bad girl to fuck someone in that crisp, perfect, officer’s uniform.

 

Knowing he was close to the inevitable, Hank looked down.  He groaned her name and she peeked up at him from under the brim of her hat, pausing briefly with her lips wrapped around the head of his cock and one hand tickling his balls.  Unconsciously, Hank reached for her and she had his hands pinned to the bed in the blink of an eye.  She pressed the heels of her hands into his wrists, cutting into his circulation as she took him deeper into her mouth and sucked hard.

 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Hank said, only seconds before the snap and release of his orgasm was upon him.

 

Stella eased up the pressure on his hands, but didn’t let him up right away.  She swirled her tongue over him and then backed off slowly.  At no time had she touched him with anything other than her mouth, her hands, or the brim of her hat.  She rubbed her lips together as she backed away and then reached up to straighten her hat.

 

Hank lay boneless and drained, expended cock flopping lifelessly against his thigh.  He could hear Stella in the bathroom, brushing her teeth.  When she came back out, her lipstick had been reapplied and she was holding her hat in the crook of her arm.

 

“You know, if you weren’t so fantastic at giving blow jobs, I’d totally be wrinkling the fuck out of that uniform right now,” Hank said.  

 

“Sure you would,” she replied, slipping into a pair of black pumps with pointy toes.  If he didn’t need time to recover, his dick would be twitching all over again.

 

“If you’re not going to let me fuck you in that uniform, you need to make sure you keep it away from me.”

 

“Maybe I like torturing you just a bit.”

 

“Wicked woman.”

 

“I need to leave.”

 

Hank picked his head up.  “Hey, Sherlock?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“When you get home tonight, I’m going to eat you raw and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days.”  Because Stella’s skirt was so damn deliciously tight, he saw her clench her thighs together as she gripped the side of the door.  “Something to think about during your meeting,” he said.

 

“Unfair.”

 

“Maybe I like torturing you too.  Just a bit.”

 

Stella breathed in deep and then left.  Hank dropped his head back down and stretched lightly.  There was a costume shop a few blocks away.  He wondered if there was anything there Stella might like.  Something to turn the tables on her and then she would know what exquisite torture it was to look and not touch.

 

The End


End file.
